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THE PLATE OF ROBYN HODE. 428
ROBYN HODE.
Harke, frere, what I say here: Over this water thou shalt me here, The brydge is borne away.
FRYER.
To say naye I wyll not:
To let the of thine oth it were great pitie and sin,
But up on a fryers backe, and have even in.
ROBYN HODE.
Nay, have over.
FRYER.
Now am I, frere, within, and thou, Robin, without, To lay the here I have no great doubt. Now art thou, Robyn, without, and I, frere, within, so Lye ther, knave; chose whether thou wilte sinke or swym.
KOBYN HODE.
Why, thou lowsy frere, what hast thou done ?
FRYER.
Mary, set a knave over the shone.
KOBYN HODE.
Therfore thou shalt abye.
FRYER.
Why, wylt thou fyght a plucke ?
ROBYN HODE.
And god send me good lucke.
FRYER.
Than have a stroke for fryer Tucke.
ROBYN HODE.
Holde thy hande, frere, and here me speke.
FRYER.
Say on, ragged knave,
Me semeth ye begyn to swete. so |
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82, donee, C. |
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